Sword For Hire
by Bax Embre
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are a traveling pair of Mercenaries in a medieval world. They often take strange jobs that involve them with things like dragons, ogres, and fey- but when They start receiving jobs from letters, signed by one "Crowley", life starts taking a turn for the stranger...


CRACK!

The sickening crunch of splintering bone mixed with the riotous cheers of the tavern crowd as Dean staggered back from the blow he'd just received. He touched his face, and glanced down to see a smear of blood on his fingers. Broken nose, great. Just what he needed.

"Dean, come on!" his brother groaned from behind him, "Can we not do this right now?"

Dean glanced back at his brother, quirking an infuriating grin at him "Don't worry, Sammy. I'll take care of this frilly- oof!" He grunted as his opponent barreled into him at full tilt. The crowd let out a pleased roar as Dean was driven into the ground. Dean strained, then tossed the man off of him, and staggered to his feet.

"Right, chubby, no need to get impatient."

The other man, whose girth indeed seemed to stretch the bounds of reason, gave a piggy little snort, and glared daggers at the Winchester.

"Such filth as you shouldn't be allowed into Evenshire!" He snapped, "And then you dare insult my house?"  
"Whoa, now, you're the one who's calling people filthy, not me," Dean shrugged, "I just suggested the filth may be located a little... closer to home."  
The man roared indignantly, and barreled towards Dean once again. This time, however, Dean was actually paying attention, and was able to easily sidestep the man. As he raged past, Dean swung his foot to catch the man's boot, and rammed an arm into his back, sending him crashing into a table.

"Dean," Sam whined, "Stop! If we get nabbed by the guards..."  
But Dean wasn't listening. He was too busy snickering at the man as he got himself back up on his feet, "Jeez, you sure you don't want to just roll out the door, chubs?"

The man screamed in fury, picking up a bottle and throwing it at Dean. Dean batted the bottle aside, and sent a kick directly to the man's chest, sending him right back down to the floor. The man tried to roll back onto his feet, but Dean kept his foot pressed down on his chest.

"You listen here, chuckles," He growled, "I'm not in the mood for- hey! Sammy!" He protested as his brother grabbed him by the sleeve of his tunic and dragged him off. Just seconds later, the tavern door burst open and several guards entered, glaring about the room. Dean grumbled, but now allowed his brother to lead him to the back door of the bar. As much as he would've preferred to actually finish the fight, he wasn't a complete idiot. Getting dragged off to the city prison was a sure way to screw things up for both him and Sammy.

Once they were out in the alleys, and a sufficient distance from the tavern, Sam returned his glare to Dean.

"Did you really need to start a barfight over that, Dean?"  
"Shut up, Sammy, you heard him," Dean grumbled, looking away, "He was saying all that crap about mercs. Just because he was born rolling in coins..."  
Sam sighed, shaking his head. They walked down the cobbled street, working their way back to the seedy inn they'd purchased a room in. It wasn't exactly luxurious, but it was better than sleeping in the streets. And frankly, as long as they weren't bothered, Dean could look past the mold on the mattresses. Though, the rats did give his stomach a bit of a turn. He never did like rats...

"You just gonna let yourself bleed out through your nose?" Sam asked, bringing Dean's focus back to him. Dean blinked, his hand going to his nose.

"Oh.. right. Forgot about that.. you mind?"  
Sam rolled his eyes, "I should just make you deal with it on your own. It's what you deserve for stirring up trouble."

"Aw, come on Sammy, don't be like that," Dean pouted, stepping out in front of his brother, stopping his progress, "Plus, don't you like any chance you get to show off that fancy stuff? Or like, practice, like all the other eggheads do?"

Sam rolled his eyes, but gave in, reaching out and setting a pair of fingers on Dean's nose. A low cerulean glow enveloped his fingertips, and seemed to soak into Dean's skin. There was a small crackle, and the strange dry noise of bone moving against bone, then the glow faded away. Dean stepped back and promptly sneezed on Sam's fingers. Sam grimaced, wiping his hand on his breeches.

"Gee. Thanks."  
"Sorry Sammy," Dean snorted, sending the final remnants of blood from his nostril to the paving stones below, "You know that magic stuff feels weird..."  
"Not exactly," He grumbled, "I don't tend to have to use it on myself. I don't go looking for trouble like you do."

"Whatever," Dean rolled his eyes. The brothers walked in silence for a while, Dean's sword clinking softly against his leg. The night was cool, and the air was heavy with moisture. The air itself felt thick against their skin, and Sam was fairly certain that there'd be a heavy fog rolling through by morning. That would have been alright with him, if they hadn't been planning on leaving tomorrow. Fog made it hard to navigate, and it meant Dean would spend the morning dragging his feet and binging on tavern food.

"I'm gonna check on Baby," Dean nodded to the stables as they approached the old creaking structure.

"Right. See you in the room," Sam nodded, and watched his brother slip away before heading inside. Sam's lips creased into a faint smile. He was always amused by his brother's fondness for his mount. He still wasn't sure how his brother cared so much for the oversized magical antelope, but it was nice to see him not acting brutish for once. Dean always seemed so concerned with preserving his masculinity that ofttimes it bothered Sam. Not to the mention the fact that Dean's manners were atrocious enough without him even trying. Sam sometimes wondered how much work they'd lost due to Dean insulting their prospective employers...

He slipped the key into the lock on the door and turned the knob, stepping into the musty room. He closed the door behind him, and slipped to his bed, picking up a book on the way. He was just opening the cover when Dean entered the room.

"How's that overgrown deer of yours?" Sam smirked a bit, looking over the top of his book at his brother. Dean gave him a sour look.

"Baby's an Impala, and you know that. So shut up," He slipped to his bed, unbuckling his belt, "She's doing fine; though that giant bird in the next stall's been bothering her."

Sam shot Dean a look, "You didn't touch the bird, did you?"  
"Of course not! I know better than to screw with another man's mount," Dean said dismissively, then hesitated, "I may have tied its beak shut."

Sam sighed, setting down his book, massaging his temples in frustration, "Dean..."

"He kept squawking!" Dean protested, "And he nipped me!"

Sam grimaced, "Fine, but if the owner kicks your ass, I'm not healing you."

"..Bitch," Dean growled.

"Jerk." Sam shook his head, and opened his book once again.

Just as Sam expected, fog settled before they woke next morning, and Dean was less than enthused on having to wake up.

"Fvmrmnnts.." He grumbled through his pillow. Sam rolled his eyes, giving up. He didn't want to deal with Dean, and frankly, he wasn't in the mood to try and navigate through the fog right now. So, instead, he left the room, pulling on his cloak. He headed to the farmer's stalls that lined the main street of the town, and started picking through the fresh fruit and vegetables. It'd be a better breakfast than tavern food, at least, and he really wanted to enjoy the fresh stuff while he still could. Autumn was approaching quickly, which meant the growing season would soon be over. Of course that meant that there'd be plenty of squash, but Dean refused to eat that without the addition of butter and sugar, which frankly, they couldn't afford.

Sam was picking through a stall of tomatoes when a hand fell upon his. He tensed, instantly withdrawing his hand, looking to see who'd touched him... only to see no one. He frowned, and turned around, looking, but didn't see anyone that matched that hand... it'd been fair, and masculine, and no one around seemed to have quite the right complexion for it, much less be close enough to touch him. He did see, however, a trio of city guards marching towards him. Sam swallowed, and slipped back through the stalls, into the alleyway. The guards marched past, seeming to be searching for something. Sam was suddenly grateful for that ethereal hand. Although he wasn't exactly a criminal, he had quite the bounty on his head. It was hard enough avoiding the guards at night, but during the day time... well, frankly, he didn't want to think about what'd happen if he or Dean were caught.

This is why he'd wanted to leave early in the first place. They usually ran into less trouble when they were on the road, if just for the fact that they ran into less people than in the town. Sam carefully made his way back to the inn, this time keeping an eye out for guards. He wondered a bit about to whom the hand belonged, but then pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

On the other hand, his spine crawled. Something felt... off. The sheer amount of guards was explainable, but.. they all had a look to them that he just didn't like. And frankly, something just felt wrong. His instincts were telling him to get out, and to get out now. Which meant, of course, he had to convince Dean. He walked back to the inn, and slipped back into their room.

"Alright, Dean, get up."

Dean groaned, hugging his pillow.

"Get UP." Sam snapped, and whacked the back of Dean's head with the sheath of a sword.

"Ow- OW!" Dean flailed, falling out of the bed, "Why the hell did you do that?!"

"It's time to go!"

"You don't have to CLUB me!" Dean groaned, rubbing the back of his head. Sam rolled his eyes and slipped over to his bags, packing their things.

"Yeesh, someone's in a hurry. Who pissed in your ale?"  
"No one," Sam closed his pack, throwing it over his shoulder, "It's just time to go."

"What's the hurry?" Dean pulled himself to his feet. He did it with an aching slowness that made Sam want to pull his hair out. Sam threw him his pack, and Dean began to reluctantly gather things into it.

"I just... I don't like this place. Something feels... off about it. There are too many guards," Sam mumbled, strapping his sword more securely to his side, "They're practically swarming the place."

"Of course they are, Sammy! We're in Evenshire!" Dean gave an exasperated sigh, "It's the kingdom's biggest military center apart from the capitol! That's why we're here!"

"Yeah, well, I don't care. We're getting as far away as we can."  
"We agreed that we were only leaving for the day!" Dean frowned at his brother, pulling yesterday's tunic back over his head, "And only because of that guard meeting thing."

"It's called a guard's council, Dean," Sam corrected, "And yeah, that was the first plan. But like I said.. something's wrong. I don't like it, and so, we're leaving."

Dean grumbled a bit more, but Sam ignored him. Soon, they exited the room, and headed down to the innkeeper's desk. The innkeeper looked up at them with an uninterested expression as Sam explained that they wouldn't be staying as long as they'd planned. Once they'd cleared up that they wouldn't be looking for a refund, the innkeeper didn't even bother looking at them any more, leaving the brothers to hurry out the front door.

Sam stood outside the stable and waited for Dean to pack their bags onto Baby. He still felt wrong, like something was watching them. He stood stiffly, and his eyes followed every passerby on the street. He didn't like this.. Dean was taking his time packing Baby.. and he just knew that someone was watching him. He could almost feel eyes burning holes into the back of his neck. The awful prickling feeling was becoming intense, and he wanted to scream at Dean for taking so long.

Finally, Dean led Baby out of the stables, and the giant impala towered over Sam like she usually did. Dean set his foot in the stirrup, and hauled himself onto the two-man saddle. Sam clambered up behind him.

He took a shaky breath and looked around again one last time. Still, he could find no sign of anyone out of place. That only unsettled him more.

"Let's go, Dean.. If we're lucky, we can make the Northbend by nightfall." he muttered, and soon he and his brother were riding towards the gates, cloaks flapping in the misty air.


End file.
